


From a Nightmare to a Dream

by Kittisnake



Series: Mara's Thief [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittisnake/pseuds/Kittisnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garion spends an uneasy night in Dawnstar. When he wakes up he meets an intriguing Dunmer priest who convinces him to join him in a mission to thwart a Daedric Lord.</p><p>A retelling of the "Waking Nightmare" quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Waking Nightmare" is my favorite quest in the game. It's short but it goes into some very interesting places, both physically and philosophically. When I played through with Garion I thought I knew what was going to happen but then...

_Well at least there's something worth finding in this dusty old ruin_ , Garion thought as he searched through a trunk in the barracks of the temple. Most of the clothes weren't worth saving, but there were several soul gems that would fetch a good price. _As soon as I can get to Gulum-Ei to fence this stuff, I might make a decent amount of money._ He closed the trunk and took his finds to a collection of treasures he'd put on a table in the corner of the room. _Might as well sort through this and see what will get me the most coin._

As he sorted through the pile of loot, he thought back over the events of the last couple of days. He'd only come to Dawnstar to pick up a bounty from the Jarl's steward since that seemed to be the only way for a wanderer to make any money in the northernmost holds. Adventuring wasn't his preferred line of work but while the Thieves' Guild was recovering from the mismanagement of its former Guildmaster well-paying jobs in his field were hard to come by. So he had decided to wander the holds for a while, doing some light housebreaking and maybe pick up a few bounties along the way. His first stop in Windhelm hadn't been too bad—he'd gotten some nice bits of jewelry from the town busybody—but after that things had dried up. There was nothing in Winterhold except the College, and since he had no interest in studying the more esoteric uses of magicka he couldn't get anywhere near the place. Most of the inhabitants of the Pale were either miners or farmers, and he wasn't desperate enough to steal food or strong enough to take enough ore to be worth his while.

Garion had arrived in Dawnstar late the previous night. He'd left his horse, Frost, in the dooryard of the Windpeak Inn and got a room for himself. It had been a less-than-restful night. At first he couldn't get to sleep at all because the other guests kept shouting in their sleep and when he finally drifted off he had a horrible nightmare.

_Dawn was brightening the sky when he came home from the Flagon. He opened the door quietly, trying not to wake anyone. He tripped over something in front of the fireplace. It was the dog. Poor Meeko had been beaten to a pulp. The curtains at the kitchen window flapped in the breeze as he stared in horror at the scrap of fur that had once been his daughter's favorite playmate._

_Stealth forgotten, he raced downstairs. Iona, his housecarl, was crumpled at the bottom of the staircase. Her throat had been cut. With increasing terror Garion stumbled over her to his daughter's room. Lucia was lying in the middle of the floor in a huge pool of blood. The murderers had ripped her heart out. Garion hung onto the door frame, numb with shock._

He jerked awake, biting back a scream of his own. It was morning and he was in a foul mood. Garion vowed to leave this godsforsaken hold behind as soon as possible. Damn the bounty, all he wanted now was to hurry home and reassure himself that Lucia was safe. Just then his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since noon the day before. He went into the main room where he bought some bread and cheese from the innkeeper, and found a seat by the fire where he could eat his breakfast in peace.

As he ate he watched the other guests in the room. Most of them were miners who looked as tired as he felt. A couple of them were talking to a Dunmer priest by the bar. Garion noticed a heavy mace hanging at the priest's side. Now that was interesting! Usually priests weren't visibly armed, although he'd learned that most of the ones in Skyrim kept a dagger in their boots. Garion's interest was piqued so he moved to a table closer to the bar where he could listen in on the conversation.

"It's a curse! It has to be!" one of the miners fretted.

"Irgnir, get a hold of yourself. They're just dreams. Please tell her, Erandur," the other woman said. 

"Listen to your friend, Fruki," the priest said in a calming tone. "They are just dreams, my dear. I assure you that it is quite normal for someone who's gone through..."

Irgnir interrupted him. "It's the same dream over and over! The same cave-in every single night! Always the same! You think that's normal? It's evil, I tell you!" She sniffled, fighting back tears.

"Erandur, she has a point," Fruki said, patting her friend's shoulder. "If it's the same dream it must be an omen of some kind."

"I'm doing what I can to end these nightmares," the priest said. "Remain strong and put your trust in Lady Mara. She will protect you. Here," he pulled something out of his belt pouch and put it in Irgnir's hands."This is a ring I blessed at my shrine yesterday. Wear it and you will have extra protection from the Divines."

"I...I will. Thank you..." Irgnir stammered. She smiled wanly as she and Fruki left for work. The rest of the miners followed. The inn was empty now except for Garion, Erandur, and the innkeeper who disappeared into the back room to have his own breakfast now that the morning rush was over. The priest sat down at the bar and stared into space meditatively. He didn't notice when Garion sat down next to him.

The Altmer was intrigued by this strange priest. He carried a mace yet he served the Mara, the most peaceful of the Divines. Not only that, he was a Dunmer, a race that usually followed the Daedra rather than the Aedra. And judging from the look on his face, the priest was much more worried about the nightmares Irgnir was having than he let on. Garion decided to strike up a conversation with this Erandur. Maybe it would lead to something more interesting than yet another bounty on yet another group of bandits.

"I guess I wasn't the only one having strange dreams last night," he said.

Erandur glanced at him. "No, no you weren't he said." He sighed and stroked his short, brown beard. "The entire town is plagued with horrible nightmares."

"The whole town? That's unusual."

"Rather."

Now Garion was definitely interested. The entire town having bad dreams? He had to know more about this."I guess there is something to do in this hold besides chase down bandits for the Jarl," he said thoughtfully. 

The priest raised an eyebrow at the Altmer. "Am I correct in thinking you might be interested in finding a solution to the problem?"

"You may be. There's nothing else going on in this town," Garion said.

"You may find yourself dealing with more than you bargained for," Erandur warned.

Garion's eyes lit up. "Wouldn't be the first time. So what's really going on?"

"Come with me. I don't want the innkeeper overhearing." Erandur slid off his stool and moved to a table in the back corner of the inn. Garion sat next to him, eyes sparkling with curiosity. The priest leaned forward and said in a low voice, "These aren't ordinary dreams. They're manifestations created by the Daedric lord Vaermina."

"What? Why is Vaermina interested in Dawnstar? And why nightmares? That seems like such a weak attack from a Daedra, especially when you consider the Oblivion Crisis," Garion scoffed.

"It's not weakness," Erandur replied seriously. "Vaermina has an awful hunger for our memories. In return, she leaves behind nightmares. It's like how a cough marks the beginning of a serious illness. These nightmares are her way of collecting memories, leaving nothing in return except visions of horror and despair."

The innkeeper's daughter had come out from the back room and was now sweeping the floor. The two elves moved closer together so she wouldn't overhear them. Garion could see all the fine lines on the Erandur's face. He wondered how old the priest was. It was hard to tell with Dunmer, they tended to wrinkle more easily and sooner than other mer. Meanwhile Altmer skin stayed smooth for centuries. He felt smug about that for a second then realized his mind was wandering because he was getting nervous and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

"Why would Vaermina want our memories?" he asked. "What possible use would my memory of...of flying a kite on a summer's day be to a Daedra?"

Erandur shrugged. "Who can say? Perhaps she collects them for display like works of art in a nonsensical gallery. Whatever the case may be, it's clear her intentions are far from benevolent."

"Well, then, how do we stop her?" Garion demanded.

"We?" Erandur replied, raising his eyebrow at Garion's choice of pronouns.

"I had nightmares last night too. Horrible ones, the kind that I'm afraid might come true. That means she probably stole some of my memories and I do not like being robbed. You implied there was a way to fix this and I want to help."

The priest smiled for the first time. _He's really quite attractive when he smiles,_ Garion thought. _I wonder why the Dunmer always have to look so grumpy...stop that. Pay attention._

"Mara be praised, an offer of help. And we haven't even been properly introduced."

 _Mara be praised indeed. A Dunmer with a sense of humor?_ "I'm Garion," he said, holding out his hand.

"Erandur," the other replied, clasping it in greeting. They held the grasp just a beat too long before letting go and getting down to business.

"We need to return to the source of the problem, to Nightcaller Temple. It's the ruined tower on the hill overlooking Dawnstar. It's only a short walk,” said the priest.

"Can you ride? I have a horse," Garion offered.

"I can," Erandur replied, a pleased look in his eyes. "That would make the trip up the mountain much quicker."

"All right, let me get my gear together and Frost saddled and I'll meet you outside."

"I'll be waiting on the path between the inn and the miner's barracks." With that, Erandur rose and left the inn.

Something about what the priest had said kept nagging at Garion as he tucked his daggers in their various hidden sheaths and got Frost saddled up. He mulled over the information the priest had given him and suddenly realized what was bothering him as he led his horse to the path where Erandur waited.

"You said _return_ to Nightcaller Temple," Garion said almost accusingly. "You've been there before?"

"I have," Erandur admitted. He stepped forward and put his hand on Garion's arm. "I would ask that you trust me, for Mara's sake if not my own. I need your help if we're going to stop Dawnstar's nightmares."

The priest's hand was pleasantly warm, even through the leather of Garion's jacket. That, combined with the earnest, almost pleading look in Erandur's ruby eyes, thawed the Altmer's suspicious heart, just a little. "All right. I'll trust you." _For now._


	2. Chapter 2

As they rode to the ruined tower, Erandur filled Garion in on the history of Nightcaller Temple. "People knew that the Vaermina cult was here, but the priests preferred to keep to themselves and so were rarely seen in Dawnstar. The city has a long history of ignoring danger at its doorstep."

"Like the Black Door," Garion said.

"How did you know about that?" 

"Heard about it from a colleague of mine." Niruin's tale of the time he'd tried to open the mysterious door in the cliffs was a favorite story in the Ragged Flagon—but only during the day. "I guess the citizens of Dawnstar have selectively forgotten there's a Daedric cult over their heads."

"It's not that they've forgotten, they think the cult has been wiped out. Eighty years ago it was raided by an orc war party seeking revenge. They were being plagued with nightmares just like Dawnstar is today. The priests knew they could never defeat a troop of angry orcs, so they took drastic steps to protect themselves."

"Hmmm," Garion replied. They had arrived at the crumbling tower. A smaller tower nearby had collapsed completely. There was a faint stench of frost troll in the air. Frost smelled it, too, and stamped his feet nervously. Garion stroked the horse's neck while he scanned the area. The last thing they needed right now was a troll chasing them down.

Erandur noticed his companions' discomfort. "Don't worry about the trolls. There was one living in the lee of the fallen tower, but I burned it out a few days ago. The real dangers are inside the temple." He slid off the horse and made his way to the temple. "Come on. There's a sheltered spot back here where you can leave your horse."

As soon as Garion dismounted, Frost tried to bolt. "Come here!" the Altmer snapped, grabbing the reins. "Don't you run off. I don't feel like chasing you halfway to Hjaalmarch today." He stood in front of Frost so he could pet him. "It's all right," he said reassuringly. "There aren't any trolls here. It would stink a lot worse if there were. Let's go up to the other tower; I'm sure Erandur is wondering where we are."

He led Frost to to a fallen column by the temple entrance. The door was open but Erandur was nowhere to be seen. Garion stayed with his still-nervous horse, stroking him until he had finally calmed down. A strong flowery odor suddenly wafted out of the open door, causing Frost to sneeze violently on Garion's hands.

"Thanks," he said wryly, wiping his hands on the saddle blanket. "Now stay here and behave yourself. If you have to run away, go back to the inn so I can find you again." He turned to find Erandur standing at the door with one eyebrow raised.

"You talk to your horse?" the priest said incredulously.

"He listens. What's that smell?" Garion asked, wrinkling his nose. "Did a flower garden die in there?"

"Miasma. That's the drastic step I mentioned earlier. It's a gas used by the priests of Vaermina in some of their more esoteric rituals. Some of them took months, years even, so they would use the Miasma because it slows the aging process while the participants sleep. I'm letting the temple air out a bit before we go in."

"So that means that all the priests and Orcs are asleep inside? So what will happen when the gas dissipates? Will they still ready to fight when they wake?" 

_Oh, by every Divine that ever was,_ he thought. _Get a hold of yourself. You sound like you've never been in battle before. Is an Altmer afraid to go where a Dunmer dares to tread?_

If Erandur had noticed the slight quaver in Garion's voice he chose not to acknowledge it. "Long exposure to the Miasma is dangerous and may damage the mind. Those who are not initiated into the secrets of the cult usually die after a few days of breathing the gas, so I'd wager that the orcs are all dead. Some of the priests may be as well, but we must be prepared to face survivors." He sniffed the air. "I believe most of the gas has dissipated. Let's go."

Erandur led Garion through a dilapidated antechamber littered with broken benches. A small icon of Mara stood on a table on one side of the room which was dominated by a floor-to-ceiling tapestry of Vaermina. To Garion the figure of the Divine seemed powerless next to the huge image of the Daedra. Erandur, though, walked over to the the Aedric icon where he began praying. Garion followed him, hoping that maybe being closer to Mara would dispel some of the nervousness he was feeling. Erandur noticed the Altmer hovering behind him and stepped away from the table.

"I installed this shrine here a few weeks ago in the hopes it might mitigate some of Vaermina's influence. You may ask her for a blessing if you like.”

"Well, I don't follow Mara but I guess a blessing wouldn't hurt," Garion said, placing his hands on the knotwork surrounding Mara's tear-streaked face. What was he supposed to say? "Bless this venture?" "I place myself in Your hands?" "Please don't let me get killed?" He heard the tapestry behind him flap in the wind from the open outer door. The sound reminded him of the sound of the curtains flapping at the kitchen window in his nightmare. The image of his little Lucia in a pool of blood came back to him. _Please don't let my nightmare come true,_ he thought as a surge of warmth flowed into his hands from the icon.

"She has blessed us both," Erandur murmured. "I feel more confident now. Let's go in."

The two mer crept down the stairs leading downward into the inner temple. On a landing halfway down Erandur stopped and gestured to Garion. He pointed to a grate set in the inner wall of the corridor. "This opens into the inner sanctum of the temple. The Skull of Corruption is there," he whispered.

Garion peered through the grate to see a black staff topped with a hideous horned skull pulsing with a malevolent light on a raised dais beneath them. The fact that it was standing straight up by itself frightened him more than its appearance. He shuddered and turned away. Erandur nodded, noting his companion's discomfort.

"I know. It's not an easy thing to behold. But that is the source of the nightmares. We must destroy it if we hope to end them."

"Then let's get in there," Garion replied. He felt the chill in the air permeating his body and tried to ignore it. _Just your imagination. The cold here isn't any worse than anywhere else. Keep moving and you'll stay warm_ , he told himself. It didn't help with the chill but it gave him the courage to keep sneaking down the stairs.

A surprise was waiting for them at the bottom in the form of a magical barrier blocking access into the rest of the temple. "Damn it!" Erandur swore. "The priests must have activated this barrier when the Miasma was released."

"It looks difficult to bypass," Garion said. He winced inwardly at his stupid comment, but he had never heard a priest swear before. 

"Impossible, actually," Erandur snapped, reaching out to touch the barrier. It hummed loudly as his he ran his fingers across it. "Hmm, I wonder...if that book is still here...there may be a way to bypass this...come on," he said, spinning around and heading back up the stairs. "Let's look in the library to see if the information we need is still there."

"There's a library?" Garion asked in amazement. The Dunmer had already reached a landing on the outer wall of the corridor and disappeared through a door Garion hadn't noticed before. "What are you hiding, priest?" he muttered as he ran up the stairs after him.


	3. Chapter 3

Garion leaned against a charred bookcase, arms folded across his chest as he watched Erandur climb down from the upper level of the ransacked library. "What do you have there?" he asked.

"There's a book of alchemical recipes in this box. I'm hoping one of them has the key to opening that barrier," Erandur replied.

"Ah. I see. And you knew about that how, exactly?" Garion asked, fixing the Dunmer with a frosty glare. "Did you conjure it up, the way you did this library?"

Erandur bit his lip and studied the box in his hands. Then he sighed. "I guess there's no point in concealing the truth any longer."

"You're a priest of Vaermina."

"I _was_ ," Erandur corrected him. "I left the order. I...I ran away. I wasn't concerned with anything at that point except my own well-being. I fled and left my brothers and sisters behind to die at the hands of the orcs." His voice trailed off.

"So that's how you knew about using dreams to steal memories. You've done it yourself." Garion's voice was as stony as his emerald eyes.

"Yes, dammit! I stolen people's memories and given them nightmares! I've spent the last eighty years living with that shame. What else do you want, a formal apology?" the Dunmer shouted.

"How can I trust an apology from you?" Garion shouted back, pushing away from the bookcase. "You haven't been completely honest with me since I met you. You keep asking for my trust, but right now I don't see a compelling reason to give it to you!"

The angry mer faced each other in the center of the scorched library. Garion tried to intimidate the shorter Dunmer with his height but that only made Erandur angrier.

"I have been honest with you! Every single thing I've told you has been the truth. So I didn't tell you my life story; I didn't think that was a requirement! It's not like I know that much about you! I don't know where you're from, what you do, anything! Except your name!"

"I'm from Riften and I'm a thief by trade. Happy now?" Garion said through clenched teeth. 

"Well then, if you're a fool for following a former Daedric priest, then he's a fool for allowing a thief to come along!" Erandur stormed off to a fallen bookcase at the edge of the room. He dropped the box and slumped down on the shelf. When he had collected himself he began speaking in a calmer voice.

"I promise you, my conversion is real. I follow Lady Mara now. Finding her was the greatest moment of my life. I'll never forget the warmth that spread through my heart when she accepted me into her service. Vaermina has no power over me now. The only reason I'm here is because I finally have a chance to redeem myself for my past mistakes. And by Her Benevolence, I will right my wrongs!" His voice was momentarily choked with emotion. He took a deep breath and composed himself again before continuing. "You offered to help me of your own free will, without me even asking for your aid. If it's your will to leave, I won't stop you."

"I'm staying." Although Garion's voice was still hard, his heart had thawed once again towards the old priest. He looked so dejected sitting on the broken furniture. And despite what Garion had said, he didn't distrust Erandur, not really. It was clear that he was truly devoted to his goddess now; it showed in his whole demeanor, in the aura of peace that surrounded him.

A long awkward silence followed. Both elves were obviously ashamed of themselves, but neither was good at apologies. Garion was the first to swallow his pride.

“Look, I...um...I'm sorry about that. I do trust you, I wouldn't have come here otherwise. It's just...well...I've gotten in trouble by trusting people too much and when I realized what you were, I thought I might have gotten myself in another bad situation. I'm sorry.”

Erandur was a bit more graceful with his apology. “I'm sorry, too. I should have been more honest with you but...well...I'm so used to keeping my past secret and so...I shouldn't have yelled at you.” He stood up suddenly and spoke briskly, changing the subject to break the awkwardness. “As it turns out, it's a good thing that you are a thief. I have need of your special skills,” He held out the dented metal box. “I may have kept my keys to the temple, but I don't have any that fit this and I don't carry lockpicks. I'm sure you have at least one.”

Garion took the box and examined it closely. He blew into the lock to clear out any dust or ashes that might be clogging the mechanism before pulling a lockpick from his pocket. He probed inside the keyhole for a moment before the lid sprang open. “There you go,” he said, handing the box back to Erandur.

“Thank you,” the priest murmured as he removed the book. It was still in surprisingly good shape considering the condition of the box. Erandur flipped through the pages, stopping here and there to read a passage more closely. After several minutes of searching, he smiled. “Mara be praised! There is a way past the barricade! 

“Really? How?” Garion asked, peering at the book. Even if he hadn't been trying to read it upside-down he doubted he'd be able to follow the complicated alchemical formulae on the page. He only knew basic alchemy, not the advanced applications detailed in the book.

“This section describes a potion called Vaermina's Torpor that the priests used to use to walk the Dreamstride. That's a way of using dreams to travel through time and space in the real world.”

Garion's eyes widened. “That's incredible! How can something like that be possible with a mere potion?”

“Because it's not a 'mere potion.' According to the recipe, it involves combining Daedric blessings with the alchemical liquids. Its composition was a closely-guarded secret of the high priests. I'd heard of it but I'd never seen it being used.”

“I've been doing alchemy for years but I never imagined that something like that could be possible,” Garion marveled. “So what do we do now, make the potion and use it to dream ourselves across the barrier?”

Erandur shook his head. “ _We_ can't make it. Neither of us is a high priest of Vaermina and they were the only ones who could invoke the correct blessings to mix into the potion. And it wouldn't work for me now since I'm a sworn priest of Mara. You'd be the one to drink it...unless you're sworn to another Aedra or Daedra?” 

Garion thought over his contract with Nocturnal. He knew his soul was Hers after his death, but would that keep the potion from working for him? _If_ there was an unbroken bottle left in this wreckage? After a moment he said, “No, I'm not exactly sworn, but I do owe one Divine a few favors. It shouldn't interfere with this sort of thing, though. I think."

“Well, I guess we'll have to find out,” Erandur said, snapping the book shut.

“So there is a bottle left?”

“There should be one. The high priests always kept some of their rarest potions locked up in their reliquary. It's just inside the alchemy lab. Hopefully the passage through the library isn't blocked with rubble.”

It wasn't, but it was very dark. Erandur cast a candlelight spell so they could see to climb over the shattered furniture without banging their toes. The light reflected off a brass plaque engraved with an image of Vaermina at the end of the hallway. The engraving wasn't as intimidating as the tapestry in the antechamber but it still seemed malevolent to Garion. It almost seemed to move in the light bobbing above Erandur's head.

When he reached the plaque, Garion noticed that it was firmly embedded in the wall with no indication that it was anything other than a decoration. “Do you know how it's opened? Is there a button or chain that releases it?”

“We lesser brothers weren't allowed in here when the high priests were preparing for their rituals. I do know that there aren't any hidden levers or pull chains; some friends and I looked once.” He smiled at Garion's surprised look. “We were young and curious.”

“At least I don't have to play search-and-find for a button behind a shelf,” Garion said, turning his attention back to the plaque. He trailed his fingers over engraving, pressing lightly every so often. He felt a slightly rough depression between Vaermina's eyes. Pressing it had no effect, so he examined the spot carefully. There was a small hole there, too small for a lockpick but if he had a piece of wire.... He reached into one of his hidden pockets and retrieved a key ring holding various specialized lockpicks and wires. After a few minutes of delicate probing he found a wire that fit into the hole. The plaque sprang away from the wall to reveal a hidden shelf packed with tightly-sealed boxes and bottles. Garion stepped away so Erandur could examine them. 

“Excellent! Thank you! I hope they labeled these clearly, otherwise...ah! Here it is!” He selected a dark purplish bottle and handed it to Garion.

“I've taken us this far,” Erandur said. “Now it's up to you to go the rest of the way.” 

Garion stared at the bottle nervously. Now that he was actually faced with it, he wasn't sure if he wanted to drink whatever was in there. “So what's going to happen when I drink it?”

“From what I've gathered through my research, you'll be viewing the memory of another person through your own eyes and with your own body. Those around you will perceive you as someone they know and react accordingly. Also, you may find that the words you speak are not your own.”

None of this was relieving Garion's anxiety. “Will I actually be there or just think I am?” 

“There is quite a lot of debate as to whether it's really a dream or just the machinations of Vaermina, but we don't have time to go into that right now. I understand your hesitation, but please remember that the longer we wait, the more damage Vaermina could be doing to the people of Dawnstar.” Erandur sounded stern, but Garion could see the Dunmer was as nervous as he was. 

“Sorry. Just a bit anxious. I've not tasted Daedric potions before.” Garion hoped his hands weren't shaking too much as he took the bottle. As he grasped it, Erandur suddenly put his hands around the Altmer's. They were as warm and comforting as the priest's voice.

“I will not lie to you: there is some risk involved. But I swear upon Lady Mara that I will do everything in my power to prevent any harm from coming to you.”

Garion smiled weakly. “Thank you.” Erandur removed his hands and watched the thief with concerned eyes as he removed the cork from the bottle. 

“All right then.” Garion raised the bottle in a toast. “Cheers.”


	4. Chapter 4

The worst part about it was that he couldn't focus his eyes properly. His peripheral vision was extremely fuzzy so he could only see things directly in front of him. Even that wouldn't be such a problem if he couldn't hear fighting behind him. There was no way in Oblivion Garion was going to charge into a battle he couldn't even see. Unfortunately Garion wasn't in charge. He was being carried along by whoever owned the body he was temporarily inhabiting. Fortunately that body was going away from the fighting towards the inner sanctum of the temple. A large blur shoved past him as he entered the room.

“The orcs have breached the inner sanctum, Brother Veren!” the blur exclaimed in the rough accents of a Nord. Another blur sharpened into a Dunmer priest of Vaermina as Garion's head turned towards it.

“We must hold! We cannot allow the Skull to fall into their hands!” Veren replied.

“But...no more than a handful of us remain, brothers!” Garion's voice replied. 

_That's a little more disturbing than I thought it would be. I wonder if I'd see my own body if I looked down?_ He tried to raise his hands or turn his head, but found he had no control over the body. A small part of him started to panic.

Veren paced back and forth in silence for a minute before making his decision. “Then we have no choice. We must release the Miasma.”

“The Miasma!” Garion's voice and the other priest exclaimed.

“We have no alternative. It is the will of Vaermina.” Veren retrieved a bottle from a table next to a raised dais in the center of the room and brought it to Garion. “Well, Brother Casimir?" Veren asked intently. "Are you prepared to serve Her will?”

 _This is how they test me?_ Garion heard. _They must not trust me as much as they said._

_And now I'm hearing voices. Fantastic. I wonder if I should just go mad now and save time? Did Erandur say how long it takes for this stuff to wear off?_

“I've made my peace. I'm ready,” Brother Casimir said. 

“Then you must go to the entrance where we've prepared the barrier. Activate it and release the Miasma from this bottle. Let nothing stop you." Veren turned to the other priest. "Brother Thorek we must remain here and guard this Skull with our lives.”

“Agreed,” Thorek replied. Casimir said nothing; he turned and ran back into the temple living quarters.

The corridors were filled with small groups of heavily armed orcs and priests fighting with whatever weapons they could find. Casimir ducked a few badly-aimed spells, dodged the slippery pools of blood, darted around bodies lying all over the floor. Something shattered on the wall next to him: an ice spike thrown by a priest who had been trying to hit the orc running down the hall swinging a warhammer at them. Casimir ducked behind an overturned dresser and closed his eyes tightly, much to Garion's relief. He didn't want to witness the priest's messy death either. They remained in hiding even after they heard the marauder run off to find more victims.

“I can't keep doing this,” Casimir whispered. “It isn't worth it.”

Garion was frozen in shock, remembering the last time he heard those words:

_Firsthold, three years ago. He was crouching invisibly on a rooftop watching his mother's alchemy shop burn. She had taken poison a few hours before when she heard that the Thalmor were after her. Several Justiciars were blocking both ends of the street. The whole neighborhood could burn as far as they were concerned. Punishment for allowing an Imperial spy to operate unreported for so long._

They'll be after me next, _Garion thought._ It's a good thing most people never think to look up in a city. _He considered his options. He could go back to hiding with the Shadows, which is what he had been doing. But he didn't want to get his Guild siblings killed. He could disguise himself and continue his mother's work, which is what she had wanted. She had trained him up to sabotage the Thalmor's plans as he had during the Great War. But then he would end up like her, dead by his own hand while everything he had worked for burned around him._

_"I can't keep doing this," he whispered. "It isn't worth it."_

_Quickly, before the invisibility potion wore off, he climbed off the roof and went to the docks. There was a ship captain that owed the Shadows a few favors. Garion planned on cashing in every single one of them in order to get out of this horrible city and start a new life._

He snapped out of his reverie to discover that Casimir had left their hiding place and was almost to the foot of the staircase leading out of the temple. The priest stopped for a moment to examine a charged soul gem sitting in a cup by the bottom step. It seemed to be humming oddly. Casimir looked at the bottle of Miasma gas in his hand, then back at the soul gem. 

"Well, this is it. Now or never."

He flung the Miasma bottle at the floor. Half a second later, he cast a lighting bolt at the soul gem. The room contracted around Garion and he was falling down into a bottomless pit.


	5. Chapter 5

Something shattered on the floor. He blinked a few times before his eyes finally focused and he saw Erandur kneeling next to him, trying to shake him awake. 

"Garion? Garion, wake up!"

"Mmmmph," the Altmer replied.

"Are you all right?" Erandur sounded worried

"I think so." Garion sat up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He paused then pulled a lock of it back in front of his face. Blond, and the hand holding it was golden. "Oh, thank you Divines. I'm myself again."

"It worked? The Torpor sent you back?" the priest asked excitedly. 

"Yes, and it was not a...ow!" He jerked his other hand off the floor to find a shard of soul gem embedded in his palm. "Where did this come from?"

Erandur took his hand, removed the shard, and cast a healing spell on the wound. "You knocked it down when you reappeared. That's what was keeping the barrier up."

"Reappeared?"

"Yes. You vanished after drinking the Torpor. A few seconds later I heard something moving near the barrier, so I came down here. You materialized on the other side and broke the soul gem. I've never seen anything quite like it!" 

"I've never felt anything quite like it," Garion said, rubbing his temples with his free hand. Erandur still hadn't relinquished the the other one which Garion had to admit wasn't bothering him one bit. "That whole experience was much more disturbing than I'd anticipated."

"What was it like?" the priest asked curiously.

"You were right about seeing through someone else's eyes and speaking his words. I was trapped inside the body of one of the priests with no control over anything I did or said or even looked at." 

"It sounds extremely uncomfortable," the priest said.

Garion thought about it before replying. "At first it was, but that may have been shock. As things progressed...well I could sense a connection between me and the priest. At one point I heard his thoughts." He nodded at Erandur's amazed look. "Just the one time, but after that I had more sympathy for him. I think if I'd met him we might have gotten along." The Altmer trailed off, thinking of that moment of rapport he felt for the priest. _Poor Casimir. He should have escaped when he had the chance._

"The priests here weren't bad to begin with. But over time Vaermina's influence corrupted most of them," Erandur said quietly. "It is not an easy thing to serve a Daedra."

"At least not this one," Garion replied, thinking of Nocturnal's indifference.

"Well," Erandur said briskly, letting go of Garion's hand. "I think the air in the rest of the temple is safe to breathe now. Let's get going."

"If the Miasma is gone, does that mean that the other priests and the Orcs will be waking up?" Garion asked. For some reason he felt closer to Erandur than he had before walking the Dreamstride and he didn't want this quiet moment to end. The way that the priest had dropped his hand, though...it was definitely over. Time to get back to work.

"As I mentioned when we entered the temple, the orcs are most likely dead. Some of the priests may have survived, the ones who had a chance to prepare themselves, but I'm not sure how many. We must be prepared for anything." To emphasize his words, Erandur pulled his mace from its loop and held it ready.

"So either a pile of bodies or a pack of angry Daedric priests," Garion muttered as he readied his daggers.

"Come on," the Dunmer said, heading off into the living quarters. Garion started to follow, then turned back. He looked at the shards of soul gem, wondering what had caught his eye. Then he saw it: The only clear marks in the dust on the floor were where he and Erandur had been sitting.

_Where's Casimir? Why wasn't he knocked out by the Miasma? He was standing right here when he smashed the bottle and then...he jumped on the bottom step before shocking the soul gem._

"Are you coming?" Erandur called from down the hall. 

The Altmer smiled. _You sly old elf._ "Right behind you," he shouted back.


	6. Chapter 6

The Miasma had been much more destructive than they had expected. Almost all of the orcs had died, as Erandur had said, except for one that was so groggy from the gas that he wasn't able to react to the elves in time to defend himself against their attack. Most of the priests were dead, too. The few that had survived were, like the orc, too weak to defend themselves against the battle-ready mer.

Erandur charged through the living quarters, intent on reaching the inner sanctum as quickly as possible. Due to his greater height, Garion was easily able to keep up with the Dunmer and still have time to note the location of several takeable items scattered about the wreckage in the rooms. There were soul gems (unbroken ones), a few jewels, clothes that might be worth something, a couple of coin pouches shoved carelessly under beds. He wondered if he'd have a chance to come back through this part of the temple by himself so he could fill his pockets. This ruin alone might make up for the disappointment of Winterhold.

A sickly red light shone from under the door leading into the inner sanctum. Erandur stopped at the door, staring at it silently with an unreadable expression on his face. Just when Garion was about to speak the priest turned to face him.

"Are you ready?" His voice was resolute, but there was a touch of fear behind his ruby eyes.

"Yes," Garion replied confidently. He wasn't but since they had come this far they had to see it through. Besides, after walking the Dreamstride, he knew how much it was hurting the Dunmer to be here again. He couldn't let him face Vaermina alone.

"All right then." The Dunmer pushed the door open, revealing the two high priests from Casimir's memories standing between them and the Skull's altar, weapons at the ready. They advanced on Mara's startled priest, not even noticing the Altmer in the shadows.

Erandur froze. "Veren? Thorek? You...you're alive!" he gasped.

"No thanks to you, Casimir!" Veren snarled. 

At that the renegade priest drew himself up, gathering his dignity. "I no longer use that name. I'm Erandur, priest of Mara."

"You're a traitor!" Thorek spat. "You released the Miasma before activating the barricade. No one had a chance to prepare themselves for the gas. You killed your own brothers and sisters and ran to save your own skin!"

"No...I... I was scared. I wasn't ready..." Erandur stammered. Garion noticed that the glow around the Skull was growing brighter as Erandur's resolve crumbled. Slowly so that no one would notice what he was doing, he slipped his hand inside his jacket and reached for one of his inner pockets.

The high priests began to advance on their former brother. "We knew you ran," Thorek growled. "We saw you go past the window up there right before the Miasma took us. I told Veren we couldn't trust you after that escapade at the Bard's College. We asked Vaermina to find you while we slept, to punish you for your betrayal."

"Your nightmares cannot touch me now, not with Mara's protection!"

Garion forced himself to move slowly as he retrieved a small, highly poisonous throwing dagger he kept for unfair fights. He had gotten it out of the pocket and all he had to do was remove the sheath without touching the blade while his hand was still in his jacket. _Lady Mara, if you're listening, keep those two from noticing me until I get this out. I'll need it to save Your priest._

"No, but they reached Dawnstar, didn't they? And we're getting stronger now," Veren said. "We can wield the Skull awake or asleep. Our reach is expanding. Soon there will be nowhere in Skyrim that you can hide from Her wrath!"

"Nowhere on Nirn!" Thorek shouted.

"The Skull must be destroyed!" cried Erandur, calling up a fireball in his free hand.

"We will not allow you to destroy the Skull, Priest of Mara," sneered Veren. He advanced on the other Dunmer.

"Then you leave me no choice!" screamed Garion as he leaped into the light and threw his weapon.

Veren dropped his sword and clutched at the dagger that had sprouted from beneath his jaw. He gasped, turned purple, and collapsed, dribbling foam. It was a very nasty and fast-acting poison, but Garion also blasted the priest with a spark spell just to make sure he was completely dead. Meanwhile Erandur was blasting Thorek with fireballs, increasing the intensity of his spells as the Nord tried to shield himself. Garion directed his sparks at the remaining Daedric priest, diminishing his magickal reserves until he was completely unprotected. Erandur swung his mace; Thorek's death followed quickly.

With a clatter, Erandur's weapon fell to the floor. The priest buried his face in his hands, breathing deeply. Garion pulled his dagger out of Veren's throat and wiped the blade while he watched the Dunmer. He wanted to put his arms around the old priest but his Altmer reserve held him back. His emotions warred with his upbringing but before a victor could be declared Erandur dropped his hands and turned to face the Skull hovering ominously over its dais.

"It's time. The Skull must be destroyed. If you'll stand back, I'll perform the ritual granted to me by Lady Mara."

Garion watched Erandur made his way up the steps. As he climbed, a dazzling light surrounded him. This was his fight now.


	7. Chapter 7

Erandur lowered his hands as the Skull of Corruption disappeared from its pedestal. He stepped back, shaking and exhausted. Garion put a hand on the small of his back to keep him steady.

"Careful. You're right at the edge of the steps," he said.

"Thank you," the priest sighed. He turned around and slowly headed down the steps. Garion followed him.

"Are you all right?"

"Forgive me if I don't appear relieved. This place has taken its toll on me." Erandur stopped at the foot of the staircase and looked sadly at the bodies of his former brothers. Garion stood a few feet away, also surveying the wreckage of the room. There was loot to be had here, but he didn't want to start searching for it in front of Erandur, especially not when he was this upset. He was genuinely concerned about him. Casimir had been close to Veren and Thorek, and Garion could tell that their deaths bothered the priest more than he had expected.

"What are you going to do now?" Garion asked. Once again he felt the urge to put his arm around the old priest but he still wasn't sure how the gesture would be received.

Erandur sighed. "I think I'll return to the shrine I constructed in the antechamber where we entered. My intention was to spend the rest of my years here, burying the past and praying for forgiveness. But instead..."

"Instead?"

"Instead I'm not sure. I'll have to ask Lady Mara for guidance." He walked away, leaving the wreckage of the inner sanctum behind.

"Do you mind if I explore a bit back here?" Garion called after him, eyeing a ring on Thorek's burnt hand.

The Dunmer waved his hand. "Feel free. There is nothing here I want."

***

Two hours later Garion had sorted through all the bits and pieces he'd collected from the temple living quarters. The reject pile was swept into a drawer while the more expensive trinkets went into a small bag. He'd definitely make some money from this adventure, especially from the gems. There were some very high-quality stones hidden away under the beds.

He inspected a small ruby, unsure whether he should keep it or toss it in the drawer. It was good quality but it might be too small to fetch a good price. As Garion turned it in his fingers he thought of Erandur's eyes; they were the exact same color as the stone. The last time he had looked into those eyes they were filled with weariness, just as Casimir's might have looked before he'd escaped. 

_This is the worst place for him to be. Too many memories, too much regret. He needs to get away from here for a while. I wonder if he'd come with me?_

_And do what?_ the cynical side of him replied. _He's a priest. You're a thief. What are you two going to do, pick pockets and right wrongs all over Skyrim?_

_It would be nice to have a traveling companion, someone to talk to. Frost isn't much of a conversationalist,_ his compassionate side responded. _Besides, he's kind of cute in a dour Dunmer sort of way._

_That he is._

He pushed away from the table and walked purposefully towards the temple entrance. The priest was there, dusting the altar. Garion watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Erandur?"

"Find anything good?" the priest asked, a sly smile in his eyes.

Garion shrugged. "A few things. I'm heading back to Dawnstar now."

"I wish you well on your journey." Erandur put his dustcloth down and walked to the Altmer. He took Garion's hands in his own, looking intently into his green eyes. "Thank you for your assistance today. I couldn't have done this without you. You've helped me atone for many of my past sins."

"Would you like to come with me?" Garion blurted out. He winced inwardly at his gracelessness.

Erandur blinked in surprise. "Come with you?"

"Yes. I was thinking that it would do you good to get away from here for a while. From the memories, that is. I know a little of what drove you away from here. I...well...the Torpor sent me back in time to...to you. When you were Casimir." Garion clutched Erandur's hands tightly as the Dunmer's mouth fell open in shock. "I was in a situation like you once, trapped in a place that was slowly killing me. As you can see, I managed to escape, too. So I know how much it cost you to come back here and face all this again."

"Yes. It was quite difficult," Erandur said dazedly.

"You've laid your past to rest here. You should get away from it for a while. Travel a bit to gain some perspective. Then when you feel that you're ready you can come back."

Erandur was silent for a long moment. Garion was sure his heart was going to pound right through his ribcage before the priest looked him in the eye again. "When did you realize I...used to be Casimir?" 

"When I realized that he should have been lying at the foot of the staircase," Garion replied. "The Torpor began to wear off when he threw the Miasma bottle down so I wasn't quite...there...when he jumped on the other side of the barricade. But when I remembered that, I put it together with what you had told me about leaving the cult, and two and two still make four, so..."

Erandur finished his sentence. "So you knew who you were following."

"As I told you before, I think I would have liked Casimir if I had met him. From what I've seen, I know I like who he's become," Garion whispered.

Suddenly Erandur threw his arms around him and hugged him. Garion decided proper Altmeri reserve could go swing and hugged him back. When they finally released each other they were both smiling. 

"All right. Where are we going?" Erandur asked.

"Well, I've been travelling from hold to hold on my bounty hunt, so I guess the next stop would be the glamorous metropolis of Morthal.”

Erandur laughed. “You've been there, I see. Well, let's go see what's hiding out in the swamps.”

“Hopefully Frost hasn't given up on us,” Garion replied as they left the antechamber.

He had. The elves followed his hoofprints back to Dawnstar, holding hands as the aurora danced overhead.


End file.
